Ask
by Mudoh Belial
Summary: Dean never knew that he could be that jealous. But he just can't help himself when Sam calls telling him about his new girlfriend.


**Ask**

He knew he was totally, completely, so fucking lost when Sam called him announcing that he was dating someone and she was oh-my-God-amazing-Dean. He never knew that he could be that jealous. He never knew that he would want to kill a person – a girl – without a supernatural reason. Maybe he didn't know himself until that day. But he did. He just wanted to look. Never wanted to see. He never allowed himself to look in a mirror and see what he really was, all that time; a possessive, incestuous, sick bastard. Probably the worst big brother in the whole fucking world.

And he was also drunk.

Dean was drunk and fucking some random girl's mouth. Because that's what he is. That's how he is. That's the right way to deal with things: drink yourself into a stupor and fuck until you just can't think anymore. So why in the fucking hell, of all sluts he could pick up at the bar, had he picked up the one with tearing puppy eyes and goddamn floppy brown hair? And when he came, he had to grit his teeth to not let the word Sammy slip from his tongue.

"Tell me, Sam, how is she?"

"Dean?" the voice sounded worried, awakened. Why's he awake at 3:47 A.M.?

"Is she with you now?" He tried to hide the pain in his voice.

"What the hell, Dean?"

"Tell me: is she good, and hot, and wet, and tight?"

"Oh my god, you're drunk!"

He wished he was, but no. The alcohol was drained from his veins. Only anger had been left behind. He wished he was drunk, but he was only angry. Hurt.

"Is she with you?"

"Dean, where are you-?"

"Answer me!" He hated yelling at Sam.

"No, Dean, she's not."

"But she was, wasn't she?"

"Yes, Dean, she was. Now, where are you?"

"You know, I could be good to you, Sammy… I really could if you want me to."

"God, Dean! Just shut up and tell me where the hell you are."

"In your fucking parking lot!" he snaps before hanging up.

It took only a minute to Sam fly down the stairs, running as fast as he could. Please, don't leave. Please, don't go. He practically jumped in front of the Impala as he saw it leaving. Dean stopped her just in time and glared at him. Those eyes, that look. It was so angry and hurt and confused… Sam had seen it once before, the night he left for Stanford.

"Dean, wait!"

Dean put his head out of the window and shouted back:

"Get out of my way, Sammy."

"You were the one who called, Dean. You're the one who came. Now, stay. Get out of the car or let me get inside. Let's talk."

"And I shouldn't have called or come, ok? I regret both. I don't want to talk anymore."

"I wanna finish that conversation that you begun…"

"I don't wanna…"

"… All I have to is to ask and then you'll be good to me, Dean? Is that it? Because I would love to ask!" Sam practically yelled his last sentence.

An awkward silence lay between then. Slowly Dean got out of the Impala, staring at Sam, who bravely stood and waited. A minute or two – or more, it felt like a month – passed without a word from any of them. Sam could still see the rage in Dean's eyes. He needed his answers, but not only that. He needed… something more. Something that was always there, but none of them ever wanted to touch. They had pretended not to see it, not to smell that undeniable thing.

"So, tell me about her, Sammy. Tell me about how nice she is, how normal." Dean spat the words, pretending he hadn't listened to what Sam just told him. "Tell me how you slick your fingers and cock were inside her. Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how you don't need anything or anyone anymore."

And then Sam remembered. In his infinite litany about Jess to Dean, one or two days ago, that was exactly what he had said. Not with those words, of course, but essentially it was the same.

"Tell me how complete you fucking are. C'mon, she has to be something, right?"

Sam didn't even try to argue. He just pushed Dean against the Impala and got close to him without really touching. He took a deep breath, inhaling Dean's scent, resting his forehead against Dean's. For a moment, Dean looked down, finding his feet suddenly interesting. And then he looked up again, raised both his hands and kept Sam's face still as he kissed him.

Now he really wanted to be drunk.

He would expect everything, until his brother came closer – as if it's even possible – and got harder against his dick, which was very interested in the entire scene. So, without thinking, Dean opened the Impala's door and let himself sit on the backseat. Sam followed him, sitting on his lap, rocking his body as much as he can against his brother crotch. Still kissing, Dean let his hand run through Sam's hair, feeling it, pulling it a little, as he always wanted. He kissed Sam's mouth, cheeks, jaw. He bit Sam's neck, feeling him shudder. At the same time, Sam's hands pulled up his shirt and started touching his chest and abdomen. He was also rocking his hips back and forward, creating friction that was driving Dean insane. Both of them remained in silence, except for their moans. They couldn't say a word. No words could make any sense in times like that.

Sam opened Dean's fly and his brother hissed, thrusting his hips up to find more of Sam's touch. In the end, Dean lost control; he pulled Sam's shirt off and grabbed his ass with all the desire he had been holding up. With no patience at all, he pushed his brother's pants down as best he could, to grab some piece of skin with one hand. He used the other to touch Sam's cock and listen to the groan he let out at the touch. He did his best not to close his eyes, even when Sam's touch began to get more and more erratic and the pleasure was covering him like a wave. Without words, he had to trust that Sam could read his mind in his eyes. It was everything there. "I love you." "Don't leave me." "Without you I'm nothing."

Dean couldn't keep the silence, however, when his orgasm came, blinding him for a minute. He felt the damp covering his stomach and fingers and, looking down, realized that Sam came with him.

"Oh God, Sammy…" he whispered, kissing him again.

They stayed still, recovering their breaths, eyes locked on eyes. Maybe it wasn't the best time, or the right question to ask, but Sam would take his chances.

"Would you stay for the night?"

Dean smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, why not?"

And as the sun rose up in the next morning, he was gone.


End file.
